


Sleepless Nights

by larislynn



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Couch Cuddles, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Good Boyfriend Spot Conlon, Light Angst, Mentions of neglect, Nightmares, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Soft Spot Conlon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larislynn/pseuds/larislynn
Summary: When your nightmares keep you up, you decide to stay up. Who knew you'd run into the King of Brooklyn at 3 AM?Requested? YesPrompt: "It’s 3 A.M., shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Reader, Spot Conlon/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Sleepless Nights

“Get out of my house,” your aunt’s words echoed in your mind on an endless loop. You bolted up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. Once again you were forced to relive the awful night over again in your dreams. 

With a quiet sigh you forced yourself to leave your bed. Immediately you began to shiver and started to regret the decision. You kept going, however. If you decided to stay in bed all you would do is fall back into another nightmare-infected sleep, or you’d stay up the rest of the night, staring at the lodging house’s ceiling. Either way, it wouldn’t be a restful night. At least if you were up now you’d be ready for selling in the morning. Besides, maybe if you were tired enough you could sleep through the next night without issue. 

While you doubted that theory, you figured there was no harm in trying it. After all it wasn’t as if you had anything to lose at this point. You quickly slipped on a sweater, effectively blocking out some of the chill. The lodging house was quiet as you made your way down the steps. 

Brooklyn always felt so different at night. When the city fell quiet and you finally felt like you could breathe. All you could hope was that the others wouldn’t ask questions as to why you kept staying up so late. 

Reaching the entry of the lodging house, you breathed a sigh of relief. No one else seemed to be up. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you wouldn’t have minded the company. But they were almost bound to question why you were up so late, which would lead you to spilling everything, including a lot of tears. It was better for everyone that you kept all that bottled up.

One of the good things about being a newsie was that no one would ask about your past. Almost everyone who ended up selling papes had some kind of tragic backstory so it was only polite to avoid bringing it up. Truth be told, you hadn’t properly processed the trauma of being kicked out by your only family. But to be fair, how could you? As soon as you were on the streets you had to fight to survive, you couldn’t sit around wallowing about what had happened. 

As much as you tried to push it to the back of your mind you couldn’t stop the memories from resurfacing. Your mother had died when you were young, and your dad did his best to raise you. After he was tragically killed in a factory accident you were left in the care of your only remaining family- your aunt. She was an older woman who tried to raise you but had little money of her own. However she was too proud to admit to her financial situation, and wasted what money she had on frivolous trinkets rather than things you needed to survive. Your needs were always the least of her concerns.

One day you stole some bread from a local bakery, thinking you’d get away with it like usual. Most days stealing was the only way you’d be able to get something to eat. But you were tired, too tired, and didn’t notice the shopkeeper watching your movements. By the time you realized it, it was too late. The bulls had already arrived and you were taken into custody. Thankfully the shopkeeper was kind enough to insist you not be taken to the Refuge, but instead let off with a warning.

When the police escorted you home, you aunt was livid. It wasn’t because you were arrested, oh no, it was because you were arrested for stealing  _ food _ . Imagine how badly that made her look! “What would people think,” she cried. “That I’m too poor to buy you food?”

“Maybe if you actually bought me food instead of worrying about your image, this wouldn’t have happened.” The words left your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt’s face contorted in rage, “Why you ungrateful little wretch. Get out of my house!” After that you were living on the streets. Fortunately you became a newsie, and now hardly ever had to steal to survive. 

You were too lost in thought to realize someone had entered the room you were in. It wasn’t until you heard someone say your name that you were snapped back to reality. Looking up, you glanced around the room. Your heart raced when you saw who it was. 

“Oh, hey Spot,” you said, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You prayed you hadn’t. Waking up the King of Brooklyn was probably a crime punishable by death. 

“No, I was up,” he answered, much to your relief. “But what are  _ you _ doing? It’s 3 A.M., shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You shook your head, “Couldn’t sleep. You?” Maybe turning the conversation back to him would draw attention away from your vague answer.

He nodded in understanding. “Same thing. Want a cup of coffee?” You weren’t sure where he would get coffee at this hour but nodded yes anyway. It would be rude to refuse, right? Besides, maybe the coffee would help you stay up while selling papers tomorrow.

Beckoning you to follow him, he led you to a back room you had previously thought was just for storage. Instead it seemed to be a small office space. A wood burning stove sat in the corner, a pot of water boiling on its surface. The room had a homey, lived-in feel that you couldn’t help but bask in. Two plush, but worn looking, chairs sat near a desk, and Spot motioned for you to have a seat in one of them. 

“It’s my private office,” Spot explained. “Don’t be tellin’ any of the others about it, or else they’ll be in here all day,” he said with a small laugh. The fact he even let you see the office was shocking. While you had talked with him often, you wouldn’t have expected him to trust you this much. After all, it didn’t seem like he became too close with any of the newsies. 

He handed you a hot cup of coffee and all other thoughts instantly dissipated. It was perfect, not too sweet or too dark. Just the way you liked it. You drank your coffee in comfortable silence that was occasionally peppered with some small talk. 

When the morning bell rang he walked with you to the selling window, causing whispers amongst the other newsies. After the day ended you felt tired enough to fall asleep as soon as you made it back to the lodging house. However, later that night it was the same story as always. The same words echoing in your head, the same racing heartbeat as you woke up. Again, you made your way to the lobby to clear your thoughts, only to see Spot already sitting there. 

You smiled slightly, “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You too?” That’s how it happened that once again you found yourself in Spot’s office with a cup of coffee in hand. Before you knew it, it became a tradition. When you both couldn’t sleep he’d invite you to join him for a cup of coffee, and then walk with you to buy his papes. Eventually you’d end up sitting next to each other on the sofa in the lobby— close enough that you could notice the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke of a good selling day, but far enough away so if any of the other newsies came down they wouldn’t suspect anything was happening between the two of you. Because nothing was happening, right?

The two of you became closer during this time, often talking about anything and everything. As you opened up to each other he finally explained why he never seemed to sleep. Too many worries about the newsies and selling kept him up at night, leaving him unable to sleep. That night he asked the question you’d been dreading. “Why is it that youse can’t sleep?” 

You stared into your coffee cup for a moment before answering quietly, “Nightmares.” For some reason you knew he wouldn’t laugh at you for being plagued by the night terrors. 

“Do ya want to talk about it?” His voice was softer than usual, and you could tell he actually cared about what was bothering you. 

After a moment of consideration you nodded. You explained it all, from your father’s death to your aunt’s neglect. As you finished your story, explaining the nightmares about being kicked out, a tear slipped out the corner of your eye. Until then you had managed to hold them back, not wanting to cry in front of him, but eventually your emotions had betrayed you. 

He moved closer to you, gently wiping the tear away. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said quietly. “You ain’t there anymore, I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you found yourself leaning into his embrace. 

“It doesn’t even bother me about leaving,” you said honestly. “Life wasn’t good there. I think I just don’t want to be alone again.” 

His eyes met yours, “I’m here now, and I promise you that you ain’t ever going to be alone again.” Maybe it was his words, or the small gestures of kindness, or a million different things, but you felt yourself being drawn to him. He leaned in and you quickly closed the remaining distance. The kiss was soft and reassuring. As he pulled you closer to him, you felt safe for the first time in a long time.

When you finally broke apart you were breathless. For the rest of the night you two talked, opening up about your childhoods and things that worried you, occasionally sharing another kiss or two- or more. The whole time you were curled up next to him, his arms holding you gently. 

Eventually you felt yourself growing tired and without even realizing it you ended up falling asleep. Spot smiled, glad you were finally able to get some rest. It wasn’t too long after that he found himself dozing off.

When you two finally awoke it was morning. The other newsies hadn’t yet woken up, which you were thankful for. That day Spot stayed with you while selling, and he did the day after that, and again until it became the normal routine. At night you’d fall asleep in his arms, a feeling of security washing over you. He was your protection from nightmares and worries, and you knew you’d never have to be alone again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone had a happy and safe New Year! As always kudos and comments are appreciated! Love you all! <3


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